Reforging the Fellowship
by Michael Weyer
Summary: Things go different at Parth Galen and the Fellowship finds it itself with some additional members. Moviebased.
1. Parth Galen

Reforging the Fellowship

By Michael Weyer

Obviously based more on the movies than the novels. I can't explain why I've had this idea in my head for so long but I do want to finally get it out. All comments welcomed and hope you enjoy.

Part one: Parth Galen

He knew he was going to die. And yet oddly it didn't seem to bother him too badly. After all he had done, death was the least Boromir could expect. He had betrayed the Fellowship, betrayed Frodo and was willing to betray his own people just for the chance to hold the Ring. But now…now he had a chance to make up for it.

His sword flashed over and over again, orc after orc going down. Boromir had never felt like this before. There was no reason or fear within him. All he could think of was the fight, to kill as many of the orcs as possible, to keep Merry and Pippin safe.

And then the arrow struck.

He had been moving in a spinning motion as he sliced an orc across the back and thus the blow that should have hit him in the chest instead pierced his upper shoulder. He cried out as he staggered back. Another of the strange orcs rushed him and smashed him with its shield, sending him down to the ground. Boromir hissed in pain as he tried to rise up. He blocked the swinging blade of the orc but not the kick to the jaw that made him see stars.

Boromir blinked, trying to regain his bearings. He heard some cries and recognized Merry and Pippin yelling. He rolled about, looking up and managed, in his haze, to see the two hobbits being dragged away by the rest of the orcs. He tried to rise up, getting to his knees and heard a whistling sound cutting through the air. He looked up to see an arrow flying through him. Just as he was about to realize it was headed for his heart, there was a blur as something flew through the air and cut the arrow away.

The massive Uruk-hai general started, confused as to what happened. He and Boromir both looked to where a small dagger was stuck in a tree nearby. Shaking his head, the Uruk mounted another arrow into his crossbow and prepared to take aim.

Just before he fired, Aragon leaped from nowhere to tackle him to the ground. Boromir groaned as he lay back, clutching at the arrow. He suddenly saw a shadow fall over him and heard a soft voice say. "Be still. Let me help."

Aragon ducked the blow from the Uruk and stabbed him in the stomach. Instead of reacting in pain, the Uruk shuffled closer, snarling, as if daring Aragon to strike. Aragon thus obliged him, yanking his sword out and throwing it in an arc that beheaded the Uruk.

Heaving for breath, Aragon turned away toward the spot where Boromir lay. He stayed in place, his expression shocked as he took in the sight before him. He marched forward and placed a hand on the shoulder of the figure leaning over Boromir. "What are you doing here?" he hissed.

Arwen looked up at him, her face impassive as she gripped the arrow in Boromir's shoulder. "I am attempting to save his life." She turned back to face the fallen man. "This…will hurt."

Boromir grit his teeth and gave a short nod. Arwen nodded back and then pulled the arrow out, Boromir unable to hold back a gasp of pain as it exited the wound. Arwen threw the arrow aside and reached into her pocket. She pulled out a small vial and poured the contents into the wound. She held her hand over it, closing her eyes and whispering as she did her best to heal the wound.

Boromir looked up at Aragon with pain in his eyes. "They took Merry and Pippin. I couldn't stop them." He tried to shuffle up. "Frodo. Where is Frodo?"

Aragon kneeled and placed a hand on Boromir's good shoulder. "I sent Frodo away."

Boromir relaxed. "Then you did what I could not." He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "I tried to take the Ring from him. I am…so sorry."

Aragon patted his shoulder. "You fought bravely. In my eyes, that redeems you." He looked to Arwen. "How is he?"

She pulled her hand back as she reached over and tore a piece of cloth off a fallen Uruk. "The wound was not too deep. He will recover quickly." She began to bind the arrow shot as best as she could.

Hearing footsteps, Aragon turned to see Legolas and Gimli rushing up. Both stopped, thrown at the sight of Arwen kneeling before Legolas. "My lady," Legolas said with a respectful bow. "What are you doing here?"

"My question exactly," Aragon said as he placed a hand under her arm and pulled her to her feet and away from the others. She was dressed as she had been when she helped get Frodo away from the Nazgul, her hair flowing away from her beautiful face as she met his eyes. "You should be sailing to your new lands," he hissed. "I told you…"

"You told me what you felt was the right thing," she said, her voice cool. "You told me what you saw as the truth. I saw it differently." She brushed her hair back. "I chose to come after you."

"Does your father know you are here?"

She smiled thinly. "I would imagine he does by now. But if he knows me at all…" She reached over to touch his chest. "He knows where I follow."

Aragon placed his hand on hers for a moment, touched by her words. Suddenly, he shook her off and turned away. "You should go back now."

"I am not leaving. And you cannot simply make me go back."

"Can't I?" He turned back and fixed her with his hardest glare.

She simply returned it, her face impassive and he felt his attempt fail. He looked away to where Gimli and Legolas were helping Boromir to his feet. "The Halflings," Boromir hissed. "We have to find them quickly."

Legolas looked at the ground, frowning at the Uruks. "These are not normal orcs. The symbol, the white hand…it is not a symbol of Mordor."

"No," Aragon agreed. "Sauron would not want his right name spoken so freely."

"Urk-hai." The men turned to face Arwen. "I heard my father speak of them. Gandalf told him that Saruman has been using dark magics to blend orcs and trolls. Creating a race of fighters than can travel in day, that are far stronger than normal orcs. All pledged to Saruman's service."

"They must have been tracking us for some time," Legolas stated. "I knew I felt someone nearby…"

Boromir winced as he rubbed his shoulder. "And now they have Merry and Pippin."

"Not for long," Aragon said. "Come, we must move quickly."

"Wait," Arwen stated as she looked around. "Where is Gandalf the Grey?"

A long silence went up from her companions. "I assume," Aragon said. "You did not stop in Lothlorien."

She shook her head. "No. I passed by via the old ways my people have long followed. I had believed you would be further along by now and did not expect to meet you so early. It was by chance I was riding when I heard the sounds of battle and came to investigate."

"For which I am most grateful," Boromir stated with a kind smile. The smile vanished as he looked down. "We were forced to travel through the Mines of Moria. There Gandalf…fell in battle with a creature from below."

Arwen closed her eyes and whispered an Elvish prayer under her breath. The glum mood continued for a moment before Gimli coughed. "Come on. We're wasting time and letting those beasts get too far ahead."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

They made their way to the shore and found one of the boats missing with footprints beside it. "Halfing prints," Legolas observed.

"Frodo went alone," Aragon stated. After a pause, he smiled softly. "And I would guess Sam went with him."

"Then we must hurry to catch up with them," Legolas said as he began to pull one boat away. He paused as he realized no one else was following and turned to face Aragon. He was adjusting his sword and belt with a strong look on his face. "You mean not to follow them," Legolas said in understanding.

Aragon gazed to him. "Frodo's path is now his own."

"Then the Fellowship has failed," Gimli grimly stated.

"Perhaps," Boromir said. His demeanor was strong, stronger than Aragon had ever seen before. "But if we cannot aid the Ring-Bearer, we can at least aid his companions."

"You're right, "Aragon stated. "As long as we hold true to the ideas that brought us together…the Fellowship will live on." He turned and began to check over his weapons, to ensure all were ready. "Gather your things. We travel light." He looked to his companions with a grim smile. "Let us hunt some orc."

Gimli let out a yell of approval, Legolas smiled broadly, Arwen bowed her head and Boromir felt a great weight lift off him as he prepared to make the most of this second chance he had been given.


	2. The Plains of Rhoan

Reforging the Fellowship

By Michael Weyer

Part two: The Plains of Rhoan

They had been in pursuit for two straight days, over hills and dales, through streams, past rivers and more. Arwen had been sorry she had only her own horse for while one person could have ridden ahead, Aragon insisted they stick together and thus their progress was not as good as it could have been. They kept at it, going without food or rest, even Gimli finding resivoirs of stamina he would have never thought possible within himself.

Aragon led the way, his tracking skills helping find the path the orcs had taken. Arwen was aiding him, also good with tracking. It was not lost on their three companions there was tension between the duo but attraction as well. While Aragon clearly did not want Arwen here, the elf was admant of staying and holding her own.

Boromir had been lost in his own thoughts, his injury forgotten as he kept up. He knew Aragon had not told Gimli or Legolas how Boromir had tried to take the Ring from Frodo. Boromir was grateful for that as the shame of his act was already hanging over him. At the same time, he and Aragon had not had a chance yet to talk over the events at Pareth Galen. Boromir wanted it desperately, wanted to tell Aragon how he now regarded the man, of the newfound respect.

But all that could wait. For now, Boromir still blamed himself for Merry and Pippin's capture. No matter how far it took them, he would find the hobbits and rescue them, as an atonement for his own actions.

They were in the plains of Rhoan and it had been a long time since Boromir had seen them. They were closing in on the Uruks and had even found a brooch from Pippin's cloak dropped in the path as a sign. It was clear the orcs were taking the elves to Isengard and the group hurried their pace.

The sun was rising on the third day of their quest when Legolas paused to look at it. Boromir stopped himself to face his friend. "What is it?"

Legolas nodded at the sun, which seemed tinged with a light shade of crimson cloud. "A red sun rises." He looked at Boromir gravely. "Blood has been spilt this night."

Boromir had known the elf long enough to trust his feelings and believed things were getting more complicated. The two quickly moved to catch up to Aragon and Arwen. The elf had dismounted from her horse and joined the Ranger by a group of rocks. Aragon was checking the tracks when a whinny cut through the air. Exchanging quick looks, the five quickly rushed to the shelter of some nearby rocks. Arwen paused long enough to whisper to her horse and the animal trotted to the far side of the outcropping. She grabbed Gimli and pulled him into the corner just as a horde of horsemen came over the nearby hill.

There were nearly forty of them in all, all in suits of armor and helmets with long spears, each riding a magnificent horse. Boromir and Aragon instantly recognized the suits as those of Rhoan's soldiers and exchanged a look. Aragon rose and walked out into the open, his voice calling out. "Riders of Rhoan! What news from the Mark?"

The platoon was racing down the hill when their leader held up his spear. With astonishing skill and speed, the entire line checked themselves and turned, riding toward the Fellowship. The others came out of hiding to join Aragon, Boromir and Legolas exchanging concerned looks. The horsemen began to surround them in a series of wide circles until the five were completely closed off. Then, in perfect unison, they all lowered their spears at the members of the Fellowship.

The leader, his armor brighter and more elaborate than the others, rode into the center of the circle. His cold gaze raked across the five before he spoke. "What business do elves, men and a dwarf have in the Riddermark? Speak quickly!"

"We are searching for friends," Arwen stated. "We hope you have information that may help us."

The man shot a dark gaze at her. "Are you one of the witches of Lothlorien?" he bitterly asked. "A net-weaver and sorcerros?"

Aragon stiffened in anger and Boromir quickly put a hand on his shoulder to steady him. Gimli did not hold back his own barked words. "Give me your name, horse-master, and I will give you mine and more besides."

"I am Eomer, son of Eomund, Third Marshall of the Riddermark," the man identified himself.

"Well, then, Eomer, son of Eomund, Third Marshall of the Riddermark," Gimli shot back, lacing every word with heavy sarcasm. "You speak ill of that which is fair beyond your comprehension and only the little wit you obviously have can excuse you!"

Eomer stared at him for a moment before handing his spear to another soldier and dismounting. He marched to where Gimli stood and glared at him with anger. "I would cut off your head, beard and all, dwarf…if it stood but a little higher from the ground."

In a flash of movement, Legolas had an arrow nocked and aimed right at Eomer. "You would die before your stroke fell!" he barked.

All of the horsemen raised their spears, letting Legolas know that the instant his arrow loosened, he, and the others, would each be impaled a dozen times over. The lessons of his youth in etiquite came to Boromir as he moved forward. "Your pardon, Eomer!" he called out. "When you know more of our quest, you will understand why you have angered my companions. Will you at least hear us out?"

Eomer stared at him, his eyes taking in Boromir's clothing. "A man of Gondor," he said, recognizing the style. "Why do you ride with them?"

Aragon had placed a hand on Legolas' arm to lower the bow. The riders lowered their spears as well as the Ranger faced Eomer. "I am Aragon, son of Arathon. This is Gimli, Son of Gloin, Legolas of the Woodland Realms, Arwen of Rivendale and Boromir, son of Denethor."

There were some surprised looks on the faces of the riders as they realized the son of the Steward was with the party. The surprise was greater to some who saw how Boromir seemed to be letting this strange Ranger take lead of the party. Aragon continued. "We are friends of Rhoan and of Theoden, your king."

Eomer sighed as he reached to his face. "Theoden no longer recognizes friend from foe." He pulled the helm off to reveal his bearded face. "Not even his own kin."

"Eomer…" Boromir paused as the name came to him. "Theoden is your uncle."

The man nodded. "Yes. But now Saruman has poisoned the mind of the King and gained lordship over these lands." He motioned to the riders around him. "I and my men are loyal to Rhoan. And for that, we are banished."

He leaned forward, his voice lowering. "The White Wizard is cunning. He walks here and there, they say, as an old man, hooded and cloaked." His cold eyes fell on the two elves and with obvious suspicion, he finished. "And everywhere his spies circulate."

"We are not spies," Boromir quickly stated. He was aware Legolas was seething and even Arwen showed impatience at this man's beliefs.

"We track a party of orcs westward," Aragon explained. "They have taken two of our company captive."

Eomer nodded. "The orcs are destroyed. We slaughtered them during the night."

"Did you see two hobbits?" Gimli quickly asked. "Did you see two hobbits with them?"

"They would be small," Boromir added. "Only children to your eyes."

"We saw none but orcs," Eomer continued. "We left none alive." He pointed to the horizon. "We stacked their bodies and burned them as is our custom."

A chilling silence came over the Fellowship. "Dead?" Gimli whispered.

Eomer nodded. "I'm sorry."

Legolas put a hand on Gimli's shoulder, whether to steady the dwarf or himself uncertain. Boromir closed his eyes and felt a new pang of guilt. Eomer turned and let out a short whistle. A pair of horses came forward with empty saddles. "May these horses bring you to better fortunes than their former masters," he stated.

He replaced his helmet and moved back to his own horse. He paused long enough to say one last thing. "Look to your friends but do not look to hope. It has forsaken these lands." With a kick of the spurs, he set off and the rest of the company followed him, leaving the five party members behind.

Arwen moved to get her own horse and returned to find the men lost in thought. "There is always hope," she softly stated.

Aragon nodded slowly. "Yes…yes, there is."

"At the least," Boromir said as he moved to one horse. "We can discover the truth. And if they have fallen…" He choked before continuing. "We can give them a more proper burial than a pyre."

He set himself in the saddle as Legolas lifted Gimli to join him on his own horse. Aragon and Arwen exchanged a long look before Aragon climbed onto her own steed, moving behind her. It could have been a trick of the light but for one brief moment, Boromir swore he saw a smile on Arwen's lips as Aragon climbed behind her. Then all three mares quickly rode off toward the rising plume of smoke.


	3. Fangorn

Reforging the Fellowship

By Michael Weyer

Part three: Fangorn

It took less than half an hour for them to reach the site Eomer had told them of. They had seen the smoke from a mile away and urged their steeds forward. They saw a massive pile of dead bodies stacked on top of one another and aflame. The head of one Uruk, his face marked in pain, was stuck on a pike before the pile as a warning.

The group quickly dismounted and headed toward the pile, all wearing faces of grave concern. Gimli moved forward and headed to the pile, carefully pushing through the remains with his axe. He paused and picked up a small piece of cloth. He turned and lifted it up to the others. "It's one of their wee belts," he choked out.

Boromir closed his eyes in pain. Legolas and Arwen bowed their heads in unison and whispered prayers in Elvish. Aragon kicked a helmet on the ground and let out a long cry of agony as he sank to his knees.

"We failed them," Gimli whispered.

"No," Boromir sighed. "I failed them." He rubbed at his face. "They're dead because of me. I should have fought harder." He looked to Arwen. "You should have let me die back there."

Arwen pursed her lips. "I would have saved you no matter what." She leaned forward to touch his arm. "You fought bravely and what happened is not your fault. You must understand…"

"A hobbit lay here."

They all turned to where Aragon knelt on the ground, his fingers trailing along a small pair of tracks. "And another." He carefully moved forward, his eyes focusing on something only he could see. "Their bonds were cut," he said as he reached toward a pair of ropes and held them up.

Everyone was watching as he continued, hope rising within them. "There were many horses, a battle but they managed to escape. They raced forward into…" He stopped, his eyes gazing up to the place the tracks led to. "Into Fangorn Forest."

"Fangorn," Gimli echoed, his eyes focused on the trees. "What madness drew them there?"

"It does not matter," Boromir decalred as he came up behind Gimli. "We must follow and find them."

"Mind yourselves," Aragon stated as he began to march in. "The few who have entered Fangorn and exited have a difficult time talking of it."

"The same has been said of Lothlorien," Legolas pointed out.

"Not the same," Arwen chimed in. "Even we have heard of the dangers within Fangorn and have given it a wide berth."

"Stick together," Aragon ordered as he led the way inside. "And keep your eyes and ears sharp. There is no telling where threats may come in this place."

They made their way carefully through the dark path, shafts of light barely illuminating the darkness. Aragon followed the paths of the hobbits, which led to a small dried-up stream. Gimli's hand brushed on a leaf and he stopped and peered at the dark blotches on it. He reached over to touch them and lifted them to his mouth. His tongue moved to taste it and then spat it out. "Orc blood."

Boromir's gaze was focused on the trees and so he did not see what lay before him until his foot stepped on something soft and squishy. He looked down and started as he saw a mass of broken flesh beneath him. "And this may be the orc it came from."

They moved around him to stare at the creature, its main torso seemingly flattened along with part of its skull. "Did it fall?" Gimli asked.

Boromir shook his head. "No. No, it almost looks as if it was…stepped on."

Aragon's eyes trailed along the ground and he saw a series of indentions on the floor. "These are strange tracks," he noted with puzzlement.

Boromir's eyes glanced about warily. "No one knows the creatures who live in this place. Fewer still know of their temper."

Gimli was nervous now as he took a deep breath. "The air is so close in here."

Legolas turned around, his eyes sweeping around the forest. "This forest is old. Very old. Full of memory. And anger."

A low rumble went through the trees and everyone was on alert, Gimli raising his axe up. "Gimli!" Aragon hissed. "Lower your axe."

The dwarf was puzzled then nodded in understanding and let his axe drop a bit. Legolas smiled thinly at him. "We elves taught the trees to speak long ago."

"What do trees have to talk about?" Gimli grumbled. "Besides the constistency of squirrel droppings?"

Legolas suddenly broke away, moving to a small hill as he barked in Elvish. Aragon and Arwen were on alert as they moved behind him. Gimli and Boromir exchanged confused looks as they came up. "What is it?" Aragon asked.

"The White Wizard approaches." Legolas' head tilted slightly to the side.

A chill went through the five, each straightening and hands slowly moving to weapons. "Do not let him speak," Aragon whispered. "He will put a spell on us." His hand gripped the hilt of his sword. "We must be quick."

Each one tensed and readied themselves. Aragon nodded and they all spun around, swords and other weapons yanked out and ready. A figure had appeared behind him and seemed to be enveloped in a blinding white light that extended outward, illimunating the entire forest. Gimli hurled one of his throwing axes at the same instant Boromir threw a dagger. With a quick sweep of the staff in his hands, the figure knocked them both away. Legolas fired an arrow but that too was blocked. Arwen hefted her sword but then gasped in pain as her hands, despite the gloves on them, felt a burst of heat. Similar cries from Boromir and Aragon indicated they felt the same and the three dropped their swords as if they were on fire.

They all stared at the figure who stood on a small ledge of rock before them, his staff standing at his side. "You are tracking the footsteps of two young hobbits," he said in a voice that carried a strange echo.

"Where are they?" Aragon demanded.

"They passed this way," the figure replied. "Day before yesterday. They met someone they…did not expect. Does that please you?"

"Who are you?" Aragon whispered.

The figure seemed to smile at the question.

"Show yourself, Saruman!" Boromir yelled. "Or is the mighty wizard too afraid to show his true face to us?"

The figure stepped forward, the light seeming to fade until they saw him clearly. He was an old man dressed in white robes with a long flowing beard. But the face was not the craggy and dark features of Saruman but the kind and wise face of…

"Mithrandir," Arwen whispered, her eyes wide. She looked to the stunned Boromir. "You…you said he was…"

"He was," the man stuttered. "He…we saw….How…"

"It cannot be," Aragon whispered.

Gimli and Legolas both bowed, the elf going to one knee. "Forgive me. I mistook you for Saruman."

"I am Saruman," the wizard stated. "Or rather Saruman as he should have been."

Aragon still couldn't believe what he was seeing. "You fell."

The wizard's mood darkened, his eyes gazing in rememberence. "Through fire. And water. From the lowest pit to the highest step, I fought and he fought with me. Until finally, I was able to throw my enemy down. Darkness took me and I strayed out of thought and time. But it was the end. I felt life within me again. I've been sent back until my task is done."

"Gandalf," Aragon said as the man came off the step.

"Gandalf?" He frowned and then nodded. "Yes…yes, that was what they used to call me. Gandalf the Grey." He smiled and bowed his head. "I am Gandalf the White. And I come to you now, at the turn of the tide."

He looked to Arwen, his eyebrows rising. "My lady," he said with a bow of his head. "I am rather surprised to see you joining us."

"It is good to see you live still," the elf replied. "My father would be quite happy."

Gandalf smiled thinly. "Well, we'll see about that." He nodded to the others before lifting his staff and stepping away. "One part of your quest is over but there is still more to come."

"But Merry and Pippin," Boromir exclaimed. "We have come far in search of them."

"They are well," Gandalf said. "They are with Treebeard and the Ents."

"The Ents?" Arwen gasped. "There are still Ents in the world?"

"I thought them only legend, if they ever existed," Gimli said.

"They do exisit," Gandalf said. "And the hobbits will be safe with Treebeard, the wisest of their number. But now, we must hurry to Edoras with all speed." He began to march back through the forest, the others quickly falling behind.

"We heard it goes ill in the North," Boromir said, still trying to wrap his head around Gandalf's sudden return.

The wizard nodded. "Saruman has his grip on the King. It will be no easy task to drive him away."

"Then we have traveled all this way for nothing," Gimli grumbled. "We end up wandering this dark, dank, ugly------"

A loud rumble went out as the trees shook.

"Charming! I mean, quite charming forest!" the dwarf quickly said as Boromir chuckled.

Gandalf paused to glance about with a wistful smile. "It was not mere chance that sent Merry and Pippin here. There is a power that has been sleeping here for many long years. The coming of Merry and Pippin will be like the falling of small stones that starts an avalanche."

"In one way you have not changed, old friend," Aragon said as he leaned in. "You still speak in riddles."

"A thing is about to happen that has not happened in an age. The Ents are going to wake up..and find they are strong." Gandalf smiled back and then waved his staff at Gimli. "So mind your tongue, Master Dwarf!"

As he turned away, Boromir heard Gimli mutter under his breath. "This new Gandalf is even grumpier than the old one."

The group exited the forest to find their horses waiting for them. "We will have to make room on my horse for you," Boromir stated.

"No need," Gandalf said. He lifted his head and let out a low whistle that echoed through the air. There was a pause and then the sound of hoofbeats. Everyone turned as a magnificent white stallion came romping over the hills toward them. It was the most amazing steed any of them had ever seen.

"That is one of the Meras," Legolas breathed. "Unless my eyes are cheated by some spell."

"This is Shadowfax," Gandalf said as the horse came up to them. "He has been my faithful friend through many an adventure."

Boromir's smile brightened. "Sauron may have Nine Black Riders but we have one more powerful than they. The White Rider!"

"Gandalf the White I am now," the wizard said as he mounted his horse. "And the enemy shall soon know that. But now, to Edoras!" He kicked and Shadowfax led him away. The others soon followed, the new swarm of horses racing toward their new destination.


	4. En route to Edoras

Reforging the Fellowship

By Michael Weyer

Part four: En route to Edoras

They had stopped for a rest, something the Fellowship much needed. It was a cliffisde looking out toward Edoras, giving them an excellent view of the country. Gandalf was the only one who not taken rest, instead staring out at the horizon in contemplation.

Boromir's attempts to sleep where mostly futile. He had rested for a bit due to exhaustion but not as much as he should have. He could still see the fear in Frodo's eyes when he had gone after him, the realization of what Boromir was going to do. It reminded him once more of his shame and that there was something he had not yet done.

He rose from his small blanket and headed over to the edge of the cliff. Gandalf was there with Aragon, the two evidentially finishing a conversation. They both turned to see Boromir approach.

"There is something on your mind, old friend?" Gandalf asked.

Boromir hesitated before nodding. "Yes." He glanced at Aragon and then down. "I…I tried to take the Ring from Frodo. I…was prepared to kill him for it."

Instead of anger or even surprise, Gandalf simply nodded. "I had feared that would occur. The pull of the Ring is strong. Even I felt it and had to beg Frodo not to give it to me."

Boromir shook his head. "I knew the tales. I knew the dangers but…" He held up his hand and clutched his fist. "In that moment…I was willing to do anything…to kill anyone…to let the world burn…if I could hold it for just one moment."

"That is its true power," Gandalf softly said. "It makes you think you can control it instead of it controlling you. That is how it seduces."

"But that is only part of the reason," Boromir said. He paused, looking out at the horizon. "You did not know this but…I had another reason for coming to the council at Rivendale."

The two men were interested as Boromir continued. "My father had learned the Ring had been found. He told me that he suspected that was what the Council was about. He sent me out to find a way to bring the Ring back to Gondor, to use against the Enemy."

Gandalf pursed his lips in obvious disapproval as Aragon shook his head. "Yes," Boromir agreed. "A foolish notion, I know that now. But my father…" He took a deep breath and then looked to Aragon. "His father died young so my father has ruled as Steward for a long time, before I was born. It is difficult to defend against Mordor, especially in the last several years when they have grown in strength." He paused before continuing. "I fear it has gotten to my father, has worn at his mind and strength. He is desperate for what he sees as any means to defend our people."

"And in doing so," Gandalf grimly stated. "He will lead them to ruin."

Boromir slowly nodded and looked to Aragon again. "There is something else. There are many in Gondor who have long accepted that the true King will never return. My father…although I cannot say for sure, I believe he is one of them. As I said, he has ruled for a long time and I fear he may not be as willing to give up that rule, even if it is to the true heir."

"I do not wish to be King," Aragon rumbled. "Let him keep his throne."

Gandalf frowned deeply. "You cannot escape your destiny, Aragon. Men need to have their king return, to lead them. It, more than even the destruction of the Ring, is what will ultimately defeat Sauron."

Aragon glanced at Boromir. "I recall what you told me at Rivendale. That Gondor needs no King."

Boromir blanched slightly. "Yes. Yes, I said it. But I was wrong. I know that now." He met Aragon's gaze, his own suddenly stronger. "You resisted the Ring. If nothing else says volumes about your spirit and character, that would suffice. You can lead the men of this world. They will follow you as I will."

He held his fist to his heart and drew himself up. "Wherever you go, I will follow you. My brother. My captain. My King."

Aragon felt more respect for Boromir than he ever had before. He saw the truth in the man's eyes, the realization he had fallen hard but was pulling himself back up. He smiled and nodded. "Thank you."

Gandalf smiled himself as he gazed out at the sky. "Tomorrow we reach the heart of Rhoan," he intoned. "And from there…fate will take us at is it will."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The sun was just rising as they rode out into the plains. They were heading toward Edoras, trying to avoid any patrols. Arwen was leaning against Aragon, her eyes scanning the horizon when they stopped. "Wait," she called out to the others. She pointed to the hills a distance off. "I see smoke."

Legolas frowned as he rode up to her, his own eyes peering out. "I see it as well," he said. "About a mile away. I see the tops of huts…a village."

The group shared looks and then aimed their horses in that direction. They took off at a gallop, rushing toward the smoke. They saw it grow and also saw the flicker of flames. Arwen and Legolas were the first to hear the screams that carried in the air and increased the horse's pace.

They entered the open area of the village and saw the carnage taking place. The villagers were being attacked by men with long hair and beards, their faces wild as they went at the helpless villagers. Several homes were already on fire and the bodies of men and women were scattered about, their corpses marked with savage cuts.

One of the wildmen turned around, his large axe held as Aragon's horse rode toward him. With a single sweep, Aragon's blade cut him down. Arwen slipped off the horse and removed her own curved blade. Another Wildman charged at her, screaming out as he swung his axe. Arwen ducked the blow and slashed across his stomach. She rose to smash the butt on his head to send him down.

Legolas had already loosened two arrows to cut down a pair of attackers. Gimli managed to get off the horse and moved in, his axe up and ready. A Wildman tried to attack him but Gimli's size threw his blow off and the dwarf cut him down. He swung the axe around to slice another Wildman's leg off at the ankle. The man collapsed on the ground, screaming and clutching at his bloody stump. His screaming stopped as Gimli's axe landed on his sternum.

Boromir was off his horse and rushing toward the inner part of the village, his weapons out. He cut down a Wildman about to thrust his sword into a downed woman and then thrust the blade into the throat of another. He was pulling out when he heard the cries of a woman and the sound of steel on steel.

He ran over to a farm at the outskirts of the village. The main building was on fire and he could see bodies on the ground. It took a moment to realize several were of the wild men attacking the village. It took another moment to see the figure responsible for those deaths.

She wasn't that tall but seemed greater at the moment. Her red hair was in a pair of braids that framed her attractive face. She wore a dark brown jerkin with leather scouting breeches and boots, with protective clasps over her shoulders. Her hands were encased in thick leather gloves and in each one, she held a powerful axe. One was blocking the thrust of a Wildman while the other slashed out at another.

Boromir moved quickly, his own sword held up as he charged. He sliced it down and killed the Wildman at the woman's left. That distracted the other long enough for the woman to kill him quickly.

A yell got attention and Boromir turned to see another pair of Wildmen attack. He met one's blows, deflecting them with his sword and cutting across his chest. Behind him, the woman dodged a thrust of a Wildman's blade and sliced both axes across his throat, nearly decapitating the man.

She turned, heaving for breath and saw Boromir. She brushed sweat from her bow and nodded a thanks. Boromir returned it as he wiped his sword on a corpse. "Are you all right?"

The woman simply stood there, her eyes looking to the farmhouse. "Are you all right?" Boromir repeated, concerned at her mood.

She stared at the house, tears in her eyes. "My family," she whispered. "My parents…my sister…they were…" She choked suddenly as Boromir flooded with sympathy upon realizing what happened. He was about to move to her when he heard sounds behind him. He turned to see the rest of the Fellowship coming forward.

"What happened?" he asked.

"Wildmen of the North," Aragon stated as he kicked a corpse. "They apparently attacked without warning or mercy."

"Why?"

"Saruman," Gandalf stated as he came down the hill. "He has made these Wildmen his first agents against Rhoan. He has used their old hatreds of Rhoan to further his own agenda."

"And these people have paid the price," Boromir softly said, his eyes on the woman. She had turned from the house and was headed to one of the bodies. She knelt to go through the man's clothing, pulling out a small dagger.

"Are you all right?" Arwen asked.

The woman turned, a light sheen in her eyes. "Yes…My family was…" She took a breath. "They came without warning. Most of us were cut down before we realized what was happening. My parents and sister were struck down while I was in the fields. I came as soon as I could and…" She shivered and rubbed her arms.

The rest nodded in sad understanding. "I am sorry," he said.

The woman brushed back her hair and took a deep breath. She looked up at them, trying to collect herself. "I…thank you. I am Morwen."

The others quickly introduced themselves before Gandalf gently spoke. "We are going to Edoras. Will you be all right here?"

She paused, staring at the burning flames. "Are you seeking the King?" she asked.

"We are," Boromir confirmed. "We are trying to raise a force against Saruman."

She turned to face him, her features strong. "Then I will come with you. I have nothing here now. All I want is to avenge them."

"I am not sure…" Aragon began.

"I will go," Morwen interrupted, her eyes flaring. "With or without you."

Arwen placed a hand on Aragon's shoulder and leaned in. "With us, her grief would not overwhelm her," she whispered.

Aragon considered that and then nodded. He turned to the woman and bowed his head. "Very well. Do you need supplies or clothing?"

"I have nothing," Morwen stated in a flat tone as she marched past them. "Nothing at all."

They watched her march away, Legolas rubbing his chin. "That woman carries much pain within her."

"Yes," Gandalf stated as he began to follow her. "But perhaps with us, she may find a new path for herself."

Boromir tagged after them, thinking of that woman. A great fighter but having lost almost everything important in her life. He felt a great empathy for this woman as it hit him that in some ways, she was a kindred spirit. The thought flashed through his mind as he helped her onto his horse and they rode towards Edoras.

**Author's note: The character of Morwen is from EA Games' The Third Age video game.**


	5. Edoras

Reforging the Fellowship

By Michael Weyer

Part five: Edoras

The Hall of the King stood on a huge hill, seen from miles away. The six riders carefully made their way through the town and despite her mourning, Morwen immediately saw all was not right. The people of the city seemed to be donned in black, their spirits quenched. They glanced at the riders with little interest before going back to their own personal work.

"You'd find more cheer in a graveyard," Gimli grumbled under his breath.

"This is not the way it should be," Morwen said as she looked around. "This is usually a place of some happiness but now…"

"There is a shadow here that must be dispelled," Gandalf said as he led the way to the Hall. "Come. Théoden awaits."

They dismounted and headed up the stairs. They were met by a powerfully built guard, who nodded to them. "I cannot allow you come to Théoden so armed, Gandalf Grayhame. I must ask you to give up your weapons. On orders from…Grima Wormtongue." The tone in his voice made it clear he did not like even saying the name.

The Fellowship members exchanged uneasy glances but on Gandalf's reassuring nod, they began to strip off their weapons. Boromir took notice of how Morwen gave over her axes, a small knife in her boot and another dagger at her belt. The guard, Hama, then looked to Gandalf's staff.

"Oh, sir," Arwen interjected in a voice of pure innocence. "Surely you would not part an old man with his walking stick?"

Aragon was unable to hide a small smile as the elf's words apparently got to the guard. He nodded and backed up to allow the group to enter. They soon made their way into the hall and saw Théoden.

Morwen could not resist a gasp of shock at seeing her king in person. She had glimpsed him once some time before when he toured the countryside but the decripet, aged being sitting on the throne bore no resemblance to the strong ruler she had looked up to all her life. Sitting by his side was a small man with oily black hair and a face that reminded Morwen of something she'd once stepped on. This, she knew, had to be the infamous Grima.

The others were more attentive of the eyes on them, particularly on the dark-clad men not in soldier uniforms who were gazing at them with ugly looks. Gandalf appeared not to notice anything amiss as he calmly spoke up. "The courtesy of your hall is somewhat lessened of late, Théoden King."

"Why…" The King's voice cracked as if his throat was made of dry wood. "Should I welcome you…Gandalf…Stormcrow?"

"A just question, my liege," Grima said as he turned and began to march toward the group with a wicked smirk on his features. "Late is the hour in which this conqueror appears. Lathspell I name him." He came up close to Gandalf and sneered. "Ill news is an ill guest."

"Silence!" Gandalf snapped as he glared at the man. "Keep your forked tongue behind your teeth. I have not passed through fire and death to bandy crooked words with a witless worm!" He held his staff before Grima's face, the man showing fear as he backed up.

"His staff…" He hissed before looking to the guards. "I told you to take the wizard's staff!" He made a motion and the darker-clad guards immediately moved in on Gandalf. Just as quickly, Aragon, Boromir, Legolas and Gimli moved to intercept them. Arwen dodged one guard and with a quick thrust of her foot, tripped him to the ground. Morwen's own foot lashed out to smash him across the jaw.

As the brawl continued, Gandalf made his way to Théoden. "Théoden, son of Thengel, too long have you stayed in shadow."

Morwen looked to see Grima try to scurry away. With a snarl, she rushed in and tackled the slimy man to the ground. "Move and I shall crush you like your namesake," she hissed into his ear.

Gandalf bowed his head and flexed his hand outward. "I release you."

A low cackle came from Théoden's mouth. Gandalf looked up, surprise on his features. "You have no power here, Gandalf the Grey," the wretched king gasped.

With strength, Gandalf threw back his cloak to reveal his white robes, which seemed to shine and illuminate the entire hall. Théoden rocked back on his throne, gasping in shock. "I will draw you, Saruman, as I would draw poison from a wound," Gandalf said as he held out his staff.

Théoden gasped and when he spoke, it was with a voice not his own. "If I go, Théoden dies."

Gandalf thrust the staff forward and sent him back. "You did not kill me, you will not kill him!"

A young woman with blond hair wearing a white dress burst into the room. One look at the situation and she rushed forward but Aragon quickly caught her and held her back. With one final thrust of the staff, Gandalf let his magic forth and Théoden let out a long howl of pain before slumping on the throne.

The woman broke away from Aragon and rushed to the king's side. She knelt as he slowly sat up and his face seemed to grow younger and stronger, his hair darker and shorter. Soon, the decripit figure everyone had seen in the last few months was gone and its place was the true King of Rhoan.

"Sire," Morwen whispered and bowed her head. Grima tried to move but without looking at him, Morwen pushed him down by his throat. Théoden turned to the woman, blinking. "I know that face," he whispered. "Eowyn."

The woman tearfully nodded as Gandalf came up. "Welcome back, old friend."

Théoden looked to him and smiled. "Dark have been my dreams of late." He flexed the fingers of a hand as if unused to the feeling.

Gandalf had a twinkle in his eye. "Perhaps your hands might feel stronger if they gripped your old sword.

Hama quickly moved up and offered a large blade. Théoden gripped the handle tentievely at first. Then he pulled the blade out of its scabbard and held it up. He stared at it before his mood darkened and his eyes swung over to face one figure who cowered on the floor.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The villagers had become used to unusual sights in the last few months regarding the Golden Hall. But it was still something when Hama and Gamling burst out of the Hall and with great strength and obvious pleasure, threw Grima down the stone steps. He bounced down the stairs and flopped onto a landing, gasping in pain.

Théoden marched down the steps, murder in his eye and his sword held strong. "Do not…send me…from your side!" Grima managed to gasp out.

"Your leechcraft would have me crawling like a beast!" Théoden snarled as he marched in and lofted his sword. Arwen rushed in to catch him. "No, my lord!" he said. "There has been enough blood spilt due to him! Do not add to it!"

Théoden glared at him but backed up and lowered his sword. Arwen turned and offered her hand to Grima. He spat on it and rose to his feet to run away.

Aragon stood before the assembled villagers and called out. "Behold, Théoden, your King!" At the top of the stairs, Morwen knelt, as did all the soldiers and then the villagers. Théoden gazed at them all, his heart swelling as he realized how much he still meant to his people. The smile vanished into a frown as a thought struck him. He gazed around before speaking. "Where is my son?"

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The sun was starting to set as Arwen made her way to the small bedchamber in the Hall. She slowly slid it open to gaze at Morwen. The young woman sat on the bed, her axes to the side and legs curled up against her. Arwen shut the door as she headed to her. "Are you…all right?"

Morwen rubbed at her face and Arwen could see dried tears on her cheeks. "I…the funeral…it reminded me of my own family…How I cannot even give them that dignity."

Arwen let out a deep sigh. "I am sorry for you and your family," she softly said. "I…know it must be difficult. My mother…" She was silent for a long moment. "I lost her a time ago."

Morwen seemed surprised as she looked up. "I thought elves were Immortal."

"Against the rigors of time, yes," Arwen confirmed. "But there are some things even we cannot escape." She glanced away, her eyes showing a dark pain and it was Morwen's turn to nod in sympathy. "I am sorry."

Arwen sighed and looked away. "As I said…it was a long time ago."

Morwen looked away as she brushed her hair. "I am…not sure what we are going to do next."

"A fair question," Arwen agreed. "Gandalf's plans were his own. He is not known for sharing them before he is ready."

"He is…an interesting man," Morwen carefully said. "As is the Lord Aragon."

Arwen arched an eyebrow. "You believe so?"

Morwen looked up and for the first time, a small smile came to her lips. "I have seen how you are around him. I know your feelings. I do not wish to intrude on them. I…I just…" She sighed and the smile vanished. "I simply wish to know what this path is."

Arwen was about to reply when the door opened wider and Boromir entered. He bowed his head before speaking. "My ladies. You should come to the throne room. Something has happened."

The two got to their feet and moved to follow him as he led them away. They soon got into the main hall and saw Eowyn, still her mourning clothes, sitting at a table where a pair of children were eating food. Both of them seemed tired and marked with dirt as Eowyn rose. "There was no warning," she spoke. "The Wildman attacked suddenly and cut their village down in little time. And now they are moving through the Westfold, burning as they go."

"Like my own village." Morwen didn't intend to speak so loudly but the eyes on her told her she had. The mood was somber, Théoden sitting on his throne with Gandalf beside him. Gimli sat at a nearby table, eating and drinking some ale. Nearby, Aragon sat at his own table, smoking deeply on his pipe as Legolas stood behind him.

"This is but a taste of the terror Saruman brings," Gandalf grimly stated. "Even more now that he is driven by the fear of Sauron. Bring the fight to him. Ride him out and meet him head on, away from the women and children." He reached forward to put his hand on the King's. "You must fight."

Théoden glanced at the hand with suspicion, still remembering the "counsel" of Grima that had kept him enslaved for so long. "We do not have enough men," he said as he pulled his hand away.

"You have two thousand good men riding north as we speak," Boromir interjected.

"Eomer is loyal to you," Aragon agreed. "His men will return and fight for the king."

Théoden rose and marched to the center of the room, shaking his head. "He will be three hundred leagues by this time. He cannot help." He sighed and shook his head. "I know what you will ask of me but I will not bring more death to my people. I will not risk open war."

"Open war is upon you," Aragon coolly stated. "Whether you would risk it or not."

"The risk is greater the longer you wait," Boromir said. "We have time on our side for now but Saruman will soon gather his forces against you."

Théoden turned and let his cold gaze move from one man to the other. "When last I looked, Théoden was King of Rhoan. Not a Ranger or a man of Gondor."

There was a long silence, interrupted only by Gimli's loud burp.

"Then what is the King's decision?" Gandalf stated.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The next morning, the entire city was a blur of activity. By orders of Théoden, it was to be emptied to the last person as everyone prepared to head to the refuge of Helm's Deep. Through the chaos, Aragon and Arwen walked together.

"You believe Gandalf?" the elf asked. "You believe that Théoden is making a mistake?"

Aragon sighed. "It is not for me to make that choice. He is the King, not I. He is doing what he thinks is right."

"If Gandalf is right…"

"Which he so often is," Aragon couldn't help adding.

"Then Théoden is leading his people into the perfect place for an attack," Arwen said. "Who knows what Saruman is planning for them."

"They are still safer away from here," Aragon said. He paused to look to the elf. "As you would be."

Arwen shook her head. "We are not discussing this again."

"We did not discuss it before, if I recall," Aragon said as he stopped to face her. "Why did you not go with your people? You know what life with me would be like, Arwen. I may be of the Dunedain but I am still mortal. I will still age and die and you will likely go on for a time without me."

"Then I will go on," Arwen whispered as she came forward. "But not for as long as I would if I did not come into your world. And I will join you eventually."

Aragon crossed his arms. "You cannot choose this path."

"I have already chosen," Arwen stated. "I have chosen your path." She reached up to caress his cheek. "Why can you not accept that?"

Aragon was quiet before turning and walking away. Arwen sighed as she once more fell in behind him.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Inside the main hall, Eowyn was supervising the packing of several boxes of supplies. She paused as she came across a sword and pulled it from its scabbard. She hefted it in her hands and slowly swung it in wide curves, her body in a fighting stance. She spun around to swing it out and found it connecting with Boromir's own blade.

The two locked eyes for a long moment before Eowyn pulled her sword away. Boromir nodded at her. "You have skill."

Eowyn simply marched over to place the sword back in its scabbard. "Women in my country a long time ago learned that those without swords can still die at the point of one." She gave him a sideways glance. "You wouldn't understand."

"Why not?" Boromir asked as he lowered his blade.

Eowyn put the sword away. "Gondor is not known for allowing its women such protective measures."

Boromir frowned. "Perhaps we do not feel it is right for a woman to put herself in harm's way. War has ever been the province of men."

A snort echoed behind him and he turned to see Morwen standing behind him, her arms crossed. "Spoken as a true noble," the woman coldly said. "We do not live inside your great walled city, Son of the Steward. We do not have your soldiers protecting us. In our nation, war comes to all. Especially at times such as these."

Boromir pursed his lips. "Perhaps…you have a point." He paused and nodded to Eowyn. "My apologies, my lady."

Eowyn simply turned away. "There are fears we have that you do not understand," she said. "Mine is to spend my life locked like a bird in a cage."

Boromir raised an eyebrow. "You are a shieldmaiden of Rhoan. I doubt such a fate awaits you."

Eowyn simply stared at him before turning and marching away. Boromir turned to see Morwen studying him. "You seem intrigued by her."

Boromir shrugged. "She reminds me of my brother a bit."

Morwen looked at the direction Eowyn had gone off in, looked back at Boromir and raised her brow. Boromir chuckled. "I meant she wishes to rise above her station and prove her worth. That is what Faramir has always wanted but Father would not give him that chance." He smiled softly. "I hope that changes soon."

Morwen continued to study him. "You care for him, don't you?"

Boromir nodded. "I do. I have done my best to keep him safe but now…" He shook his head.

Morwen felt herself pulled at the concern over the man. Before she could say anything, they heard Legolas clear his throat behind them. "We are ready to go," Legolas stated.

Boromir made a motion to Morwen to encourage her to go first. With an air that was less chilly than before, she did as they prepared for their long voyage.


	6. En Route to Helm's Deep

Reforging the Fellowship

By Michael Weyer

Part six: En route to Helm's Deep

The march was harder than Morwen had expected. That was ironic since it was moving far slower than her companions would have preferred. Had this been an army of soldiers, they would have reached Helm's Deep in a little over a day. However, these were civilians, women and children. Thus, the march was forced to take their time with regular rest periods.

It was during one such that Eowyn came up to where Arwen and Aragon sat together. The conversation between the duo was cut off as they saw the woman smiling as she offered a small bowl. "I made you this," she told Aragon.

Aragon took the bowl from her, nodding his thanks as he lifted a spoon to his mouth. Arwen hardly needed any of her special skills to tell that whatever it was, it was horrible. Aragon paused and managed to swallow some as he nodded to Eowyn. "It's good," he got out.

She let out a grateful nod and turned away. Aragon immediately moved the bowl over to pour out its contents. Before he got far, Eowyn turned back to face him. "My uncle told me a strange thing."

Aragon quickly moved the bowl back and winced as the hot liquid poured onto his leg. Arwen put a hand to her mouth to stifle her giggle as the oblivious Eowyn continued. "He said you marched to war with my grandfather. But he must be mistaken."

Aragon nodded. "The King has a good memory. He was only a child then."

Eowyn frowned. "But that would make you at least 60."

Aragon turned away, embarrassed. "70?" Eowyn pressed. "You cannot be 80?"

"87."

Eowyn stared at him, slowly rising to her feet. "You…are one of the Dunedain," she stammered. "A descendant of Numenor, blessed with long life. It was said your race had passed into legend."

"There are a few of us left," Aragon softly stated.

Eowyn took a deep breath. "I…I am sorry. Please...please eat." She turned and headed away. Aragon frowned as he gazed to Arwen. "Was it something I said?"

Arwen shook her head. "You truly do not see it, do you?"

"See what?" Aragon asked in confusion.

Arwen leaned in. "The woman is attracted to you."

Aragon's eyes widened. "That…that cannot be."

"But it is."

"I don't even know her that well."

"That rarely matters." The elf smiled. "You did not truly know me and yet you fell in love with me, if you recall."

Aragon sighed. "I do not feel…that for her."

Arwen placed a hand to his shoulder. "I know," she softly stated. "She is still in pain over her brother's death. You must…tread carefully with her."

Aragon was quiet before shaking his head. "I just…This is a complication I had not expected."

Arwen nodded. "No one said the life of a King would be easy."

Aragon simply rolled his eyes.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Boromir checked behind him to see Morwen riding at his side. She was still as quiet as she had been the entire ride. He'd hoped her earlier fire toward him might get her out of her depression but it seemed to have taken hold once more. He mulled his words before speaking. "I am sorry again for your family."

Morwen was quiet for a moment. "You have a brother, you said?"

Boromir nodded. "Yes, I do. He is in Gondor, aiding the defenses there."

"Are you close to him?"

"Yes," Boromir answered, unsure where this was going.

Morwen looked down. "I was not as…close to my sister as I would have liked to have been. It was difficult after our father died and I…I suppose I took too much of the responsibilities a man would. It created a rift between us that…we never healed. And now…now I will never have the chance to."

Boromir sighed, feeling the need to reach to her for comfort but knowing that she wanted some distance. "I am sorry."

Morwen shrugged. "It is something I must live with. Pain is part of the lives of those of us in the untamed lands."

"And I would not understand, would I?" Boromir hadn't intended to sound sardonic but it came out that way.

Morwen looked to him. "You have lived the life of a nobleman. You cannot understand why my life has been like."

"Perhaps not," he allowed. "But I know the life of a warrior. And I know what it is like to lose friends and loved ones. It is not easy to do so alone."

Morwen seemed ready to reply when the sound of a loud roar echoed through the small valley. They both looked up with surprised expressions as Aragon raced from a nearby hilltop. "Warg riders!" he called out.

There was a rush of panic as the soldiers moved in. Theoden immediately started to yell orders. "Taran! Take six other to escort the people! The rest with us!"

"Let me come!" Eowyn yelled.

"No!" Theoden stated. "I need you to get the people to Helm's Deep."

"But----"

"Please," Theoden hissed. "You must do this. For me." Eowyn closed her mouth and backed away. Arwen joined her, the elf's eyes fixed on Aragon's as he mounted a horse. The two shared a long nod before Aragon rode away.

Boromir quickly joined the other riders, kicking his heels as they came over a hill. He heard hoofbeats beside him and looked, starting as he saw Morwen riding beside him, her expression hard. He wanted to yell at her, to tell her to get back with the other women but they were already over the hill.

Legolas was firing arrows at the creatures riding hard. Each one looked like a wolf only as large as a horse and more vicious than any bear. Each was ridden by an orc waving a sharp blade. Legolas moved to leap onto Gimli's horse as the cavalry charged toward the Wargs.

The two groups met, riders thrown as horses and Wargs smashed into each other. Boromir swung his sword and cut an orc off his Warg, moving the steed quickly to avoid another charging beast. He saw Gimli down on the ground but still fighting and tried to get to him. However, a Warg appeared and pushed him off the horse. He fell back, rolling on the ground and rising to hold up his sword. Just as the Warg was about to reach him, an axe flew and struck its rider, sending them both to the side.

Boromir whirled to see Morwen off her horse, her other axe cutting down another orc. He nodded his thanks as he rushed to where Gimli was. The dwarf was pinned down under both a warg and the corpse of an orc with its head twisted at an unnatural angle. Boromir sliced down an orc that charged at him to get to his friend. He looked down and shook his head. "Only you, Gimli."

"Get me out of here fast!" the dwarf growled. "Before that damn elf sees me!"

Boromir quickly threw aside the orc's body and then, with Gimli pushing from below, managed to get the Warg off him. The dwarf gasped as he rose to his feet, hefting his axe and charging into battle.

"He doesn't embarrass easily, does he?" Morwen asked as she came up to Boromir.

The man shook his head. "They're miners born. It's only natural they have thick heads." Hefting his sword, he moved back into the battle.

By this point, most of the orcs had been killed along with their mounts, many Wargs racing off to the hills. Morwen felt a chill as she saw that most of the soldiers who had ridden were scattered around the ground. As one orc staggered to its feet, she let her anger out by cutting him down with a dual strike of her axes.

Boromir looked around as he joined Legolas. "Where's Aragon?"

The elf's face fell as he also looked around. "I do not know." He looked over to where an orc was slumped on a rock, heaving for breath due to the massive wound on its chest. Gimli was already there, holding an axe to its throat. "Tell me what happened to Aragon and I shall ease your passing."

The orc managed a choking laugh. "He…took a little tumble…over the cliff."

"You lie," Legolas hissed.

The orc just grinned and opened his hand. In it was the Elvenstar pendant Aragon always kept close. The orc let out a long last gasp as he died. Legolas reached and grabbed the pendant, staring at it. He then raced to the edge of the cliff and looked down to the river far below. Gimli, Boromir and Morwen joined him, all with stunned expressions on their faces.

"Get the wounded on horses," Theoden was calling to his men. "Leave the dead." He turned to the others, his expression somber. "I…I am sorry. We must go. The wolves of Isengard will return soon." He seemed ready to say something else but then turned away and walked back.

Morwen bowed her head. "He…he was a good man."

"He still is," Boromir stated.

Morwen stared at him in surprise. "You don't think he actually survived that, do you?"

"Gandalf fell far further," Boromir pointed out.

"He was a wizard," Gimli said. "Aragon is just a man."

"No," Legolas softly stated. "Not just a man." He turned and walked off, the rest following him.

"Who shall tell the Lady Arwen?" Gimli rumbled.

"If Aragon truly died, she would already know," Legolas coolly said. "And if lives…he will return to her. I am certain of that."

"Is that elven instinct?" Gimli asked. "Or just blind hope?"

Legolas gave him a thin-eyed look. "Hope is never blind, my friend. Hope is often all that carries us." That thought carried the group as they made their way to Helm's Deep.


	7. Helm's Deep, Day

Reforging the Fellowship

By Michael Weyer

Part seven: Helm's Deep, Day

Living in Rivendell made one a bit dismissive of other grand places. However, Arwen had to admit to being impressed by Helm's Deep. The fortress seemed to grow right out of the mountain, the banner of Rhoan flying from various towers and battlements. She carefully paced through the long hallways as the refugees settled. She was unable to hide a broad smile as she saw the two children who had come to Edoras embracing a woman who was apparently their mother.

She saw Eowyn approaching, the woman's face drawn. "What are our supplies?" she asked.

Eowyn shook her head. "Not as well as I had expected. We may have enough for a few weeks, perhaps longer if we ration but not enough for a full-scale siege."

Arwen frowned. "And we are cut off from other routes." She shook her head. "Your uncle should have prepared better."

Eowyn glared at her. "We maintain this outpost for desperate situations only and then for soldiers. We were not expecting it to be used, not by this many people."

"I only meant------"

"My uncle," Eowyn cut her off. "Is doing his best to aid his people. This was our best chance to survive and escape the wrath of Saruman."

"We could have done that at Edoras," the elf replied. She was about to go on when they heard the commotion at the front gates. They quickly headed over to see the soldiers returning. Théoden dismounted, nodding to the guards as he let them take his horse.

Eowyn looked about, swiftly counting the number of riders. "So few," she whispered. "So few have returned."

"We took heavy losses," Théoden acknowledged. "But now, we must look to the safety of the Keep."

The two women saw Gimli coming up, his face drawn. "Milady," he said in a soft voice.

Eowyn blinked. "Where…where is the Lord Aragon?"

Gimli tried to keep his voice steady but did not succeed. "He fell," he choked out.

The two women's reactions were interesting. Eowyn was stunned, moving back and her eyes misting. Arwen, on the other hand, was calm, her eyes staring out at the battlements above. "He is not dead," she said.

Gimli and Eowyn both stared at her. "How can you know that?" the Rhoan woman asked.

Arwen simply looked at her. "I know." She turned and walked away.

Gimli sighed and shook his head. "She will not accept it."

"No, she will not," Eowyn said, her voice softer and her eyes lighting up with understanding. "She will not allow herself to. She loves him. She truly does." She looked down as she walked away, feeling the weight in her heart shift as she realized her true attraction to this man.

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Morwen brushed the horse she had been riding inside the stable house of the Keep. She heard the heavy footsteps behind her and sighed. "Save your words."

"And what words did you expect?" Boromir stated, crossing his arms.

"The usual," Morwen stated as she kept up the brushing, not looking back at him. "Women have no place in battle, I should have stayed behind with the others, I had no business risking my life. I don't wish to hear of them."

Boromir gazed at her carefully. "Do you think your family would want you to throw your life away so carelessly?"

Morwen whirled on him, her eyes flashing with anger. "Do not talk of my family again," she hissed. "You did not know them. You do not know me. You have no right to judge me."

Boromir's gaze hardened as he moved in. "I nearly caused death to one I had sworn to protect," he hissed himself. "And after it happened, all I wanted was to wallow in guilt and self-pity. But I quickly realized that doing so would be unfair to all who know me." He straightened. "I would hope you can understand that as well." He turned and marched away, leaving Morwen to process his words.

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His words still carried as Morwen walked the battlements of Helm's Deep. She saw Gimli standing by a corner, puffing on a pipe. He nodded his head to her. "My lady."

"There is no need for that," Morwen said. "I am not nobility."

"No," Gimli said. "But you are a fine fighter and braver than most nobles I've met, men or women. That deserves some respect."

Morwen nodded. "I do not feel…noble. I am just trying to survive."

"There is a difference between surviving and living," Gimli stated. "You should realize that."

Morwen took in his words but before she could process them, there was a commotion at the gate. The two exchanged confused frowns and headed over. "What's happening?" Morwen asked a soldier coming down from the battlements.

"It's Aragon!" the soldier replied. "He has returned!" He rushed away as Morwen and Gimli exchanged dumfounded looks. Then they ran to join the throng of people surrounding the man sitting atop a horse. "Let me through!" Glimli said as he pushed through the crowd. "Where is he? Let me through! I'm gonna kill him!"

He finally got through to face the exhausted Aragon. "You are…" he said, trying to keep his voice steady. "The luckiest, the canniest and the most reckless man I've ever met!" He moved in to embrace the startled Aragon. "Bless you, laddie, bless you!"

As Aragon put up with the passionate welcome, Morwen smiled and bowed her head. "It is good to see you survived."

Aragon nodded back as he managed to pry Gimli off him. "Where is the king?"

The dwarf nodded toward the main hall. Aragon moved up to it. He was almost there when he came face to face with Legolas. The elf showed no surprise as he looked at him. "You're late," he said in Elvish. He looked Aragon over and wrinkled his nose. "You look terrible."

Aragon simply smiled before looking around. "Arwen?"

"I'll find her," Legolas stated. "She…has something for you." He moved away so Aragon could move to the doors.

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"We have new troops coming from the East," Gamling was telling Théoden. The King sat on the throne in the hall, Boromir pacing nearby. "That should up our strength."

"But not enough," Boromir stated. "Not if the might of Isengard comes our way."

Théoden sniffed. "Saruman's reach will be long indeed to come to us."

Boromir frowned. "Do not underestimate him, sire. He was cunning enough to cut off your power for months. If there is a way to attack us, he will find it."

Théoden opened his mouth to reply when the doors to the hall were thrown wide open. The men stared in shock as Aragon stumbled in. "Aragon!" Boromir called out, a grin breaking over his face. He moved over and quickly embraced the other man. "I knew it would take more than a single Warg and rider to kill you!"

Aragon broke away to smile weakly. "It almost was."

"I am grateful to see you alive," Théoden stated.

"You may not be when you hear my news," Aragon said. He moved to a nearby table, grabbing a flask of water and drinking it down. Gimli, Legolas and Morwen had entered by the time he had sated his thirst. Wiping off his mouth, Aragon spoke. "I managed to find a horse that helped fish me out of the river. As I rode here, I came across a host of Uruk-hai coming from Isengard, heading straight here."

Théoden frowned, rising from his throne, his arms behind him. He walked past Aragon, looking out as if he could see the orcs coming. "A great host, you say?"

"Ten thousand at least."

Morwen choked out loud at the number. Théoden's reaction was close to her own as he turned and stared, stunned, at Aragon. "Ten thousand?" he whispered.

"It is an army bred for one purpose," Aragon gravely stated. "To destroy the world of men." He let his words hang for a long moment before finishing. "They will be here by nightfall."

Théoden took in his words, pursing his lips. He then turned away, his cape sweeping behind him as he marched off and barked out three words. "Let them come."

The group followed Théoden as he stood outside the fortress' gate, studying it. "We will cover the causeway and the gate from above," he stated. "No army has ever breached the Deepening Wall or set foot in the Hornburg."

"This is no rabble of mindless orcs," Gimli snapped. "These are Uruk-hai. Their armor is thick and their shields broad."

Théoden moved in, fixing him with a cool gaze. "I have fought many wars, Master Dwarf. I know how to defend my own keep." He marched away, the other following as he spoke. "They will break upon the walls like water on rock. We will outlast them while they pillage and burn. Crops can be resown, villages rebuilt."

"They do not come to destroy Rhoan's crops or homes," Aragon argued. "They come to destroy its people, down to the last child."

Théoden suddenly turned and moved in close, his voice a low hiss. "What will you have me do? Look at my men. Their courage hangs by a thread. If this is to be our end, I would have it be such an end as to be worthy of remembrance." He broke away and walked away again.

Morwen could not keep silent. "My lord, send our riders! We must call for aid!"

Théoden turned to her and Morwen swallowed at his gaze. "Aid?" he softly asked. "And who would answer? Elves? Dwarves? We are not as lucky in allies as others," he finished, his gaze on Aragon. "The old alliances are dead."

"Not all," Boromir said as me moved forward. "Gondor will answer."

He was unprepared for the venom in Théoden's tone as the king whirled on him. "Gondor! You dare say Gondor will help?" He pointed right at Boromir. "Where were you when the Westfold fell? Where were you when our enemies closed in around us? Where were you when…" He broke off and shook his head. "No. No, your father will never come to aid us. We are quite alone."

He turned and marched away, leaving the group more than a little stunned. "He will not see the truth as it marches towards him," Legolas gravely stated.

Morwen shook her head. "He…he is doing what he thinks is right."

"Too bad it's wrong," Gimli grumbled.

Seeing Morwen about to yell at the dwarf, Boromir cut in. "Nevertheless, it is his decision. We must respect it and prepare." He put a hand to Morwen's shoulder to pull her away. "Come. We can aid in the preparations to move the women and children into the caves."

Morwen glared at him. "I am hoping you do not expect me to be among them."

Boromir sighed as he realized he had an argument to handle.

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Aragon entered the small room in the tower. She was there, facing the windows, gazing at the movement below. He came up and put his hands on her shoulders. She sighed and turned to face him. No words were needed as she pulled his face to hers for a long kiss. He held her to him and decided that, for a while anyway, he could forget the weight of the battle to come and lose himself in the one thing that made his life worth living.


	8. Helm's Deep, AfternoonNightfall

Reforging the Fellowship

By Michael Weyer

Chapter eight: Helm's Deep, Afternoon/Nightfall

The news of the oncoming army had spread quickly throughout the fortress and tension was thick through the air. On Theoden's orders, the women and children were being taken to the caves underneath the fortress for safety while the men, whatever their age, were being pressed into service. It was a decision unpopular with some.

"We want to fight," Arwen stated as she and Morwen came up to Aragon. The man sighed and shook his head as he tried to walk away.

"I have already been through this with Eowyn," Aragon said. "The king has ordered all women to the caves."

"All human women, yes," Arwen said. "He is not my King."

"No," Aragon said. "But I want you to be there. This is not some scuffle with Wildmen. This is an army of darkness coming to wipe us out to the last man. And woman." He leaned in and touched her arm. "I need to know you are safe," he said in Elvish.

She pulled the arm away. "I can protect myself," she replied in Elvish, her eyes narrowed. "I am not leaving you. If you fight, I fight as well."

"Arwen…please…be where I know you are safe."

"How can I be safe when I know you can die?"

Morwen did not understand Elvish but she knew a private conversation when she saw it. She also knew that her arguments would not have too much weight with the Ranger. Spotting a group of men heading off toward the armory, she decided to take matters into her own hands and stole away.

Aragon turned away from Arwen to head towards the battlements. "I will not argue this," he said. "Go to safety."

"You are not my lord or husband," Arwen stated. "Not yet. I do not have to follow any command from you."

Aragon was about to reply when Boromir came up to them. "Aragon, they are readying in the armory," he stated. The Ranger nodded and headed off. Boromir watched him go, then turned to face Arwen. He saw the look on her face and understood what was happening. "You cannot fight."

Arwen glared at him. "If I will not listen to Aragon, what makes you think I would listen to you?"

Boromir moved and kept his voice low. "If you care for him…if you love him…you will not fight."

"He needs-------"

"We need him," Boromir interrupted. "We need his leadership and his skills if we have any hope for survival. But he will not be able to concentrate on doing what must be done if you are there. You know him. You know he would forget the battle in an instant if he believed you to be in danger. If he knows you are safe…then he can do what is needed."

Arwen bit her lip. "But…I want…"

Boromir looked about and then leaned in, his voice lower. "Our chances are not good," he almost whispered. "Frankly, I do not know if we can attain victory. If that happens, if we fall…those under the caves would need someone like you to get them to safety. You are needed there more than here."

Arwen's face whitened slightly. "I want to be there for him."

"You want him to know you will survive, no matter what," Boromir replied. "So…for him and for us…do as he says."

She bowed her head and slowly nodded. "Very well." She looked up to him with a mist in her eyes. "If you can…try to help him."

Boromir smiled broadly. "Of that, you can be certain, my lady."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Boromir entered the armory and took in the men inside. They ranged in age from barely able to walk from youth to barely being able to walk from age. Many of them had trouble even lifting the swords and spears that were laid out. Aragon, Gimli and Legolas walked among them, each with the same concern as Boromir.

"I've done a quick count," he said as he came up to them. "In total, our numbers are barely over three hundred."

Aragon nodded as he looked about. "Farmers, farriers, stable boys…" He shook his head. "These are no soldiers."

"Most have seen too many winters," Gimli pointed out.

"Or too few," Legolas grimly added. He looked around and sniffed. "They're frightened. I can see it in their eyes." He turned and began to talk in Elvish, the sudden rise of volume in his voice getting the attention of everyone in the room. Aragon began to reply in Elvish but Legolas interrupted, barking at him, everyone exchanging confused glances.

"Then I shall die as one of them!" Aragon suddenly erupted in the common tongue. His words hung in the air as he whirled about and marched out of the armory. Legolas made a motion to go after him but Gimli caught him. "Let him go, laddie. Let him go."

Aragon brushed past Boromir who decided to ignore the dwarf's advice and head after him. "Aragon," he called out. "Do not lose hope."

Aragon stopped and turned toward him. "We are outnumbered over a thousand to one. Saruman will not stop until this fortress is rubble. Our only forces have not the strength or experience to mount any proper defense. Perhaps Legolas is right. Perhaps we are going to die."

"Perhaps," Boromir said, realizing what Legolas had been saying. "But at the least, we can give those in the caves the chance to escape and survive. We can at least ensure that their victory will come at a high price. If this is our last stand…then we can make it one to be proud of." He brought himself up. "And I am proud to be able to stand by you."

He turned and walked off, leaving Aragon to reflect on his words.

Boromir found his way to the heart of the Deep, where Théoden was readying himself. He saw the King standing in the hall, staring off as Gamling, with great ceremony, attached his armor to him. The man became aware of someone behind him and craned his head to see Boromir in the doorway. "I apologize," Boromir said. "I did not know you were…"

"No, enter," Théoden stated as Gamling tightened the straps on his armor. The King was silent for a moment before speaking. "I…wish to apologize for losing my temper before," he said with hesitation. "I should not have laid my anger upon you."

"It is understandable," Boromir carefully replied. "My father…has not been as attentive to the problems of our neighbors as he should have been. He tries his best," he quickly said. "But…I fear he is losing a great fight within himself."

Théoden nodded. "I would hope he would send aid. We need all we can get." He turned to face Boromir. "But again, you did not deserve this treatment. You are fighting for us. For a land not your own and I must honor that."

Boromir glanced away. "I fight more for Aragon and what he stands for," he admitted. He looked back at Théoden. "But as I said to him earlier…I am proud to stand here, whatever the end."

"Whatever the end," Théoden said as he looked into space. "Where is the horse and the rider? Where is the horn that was blown?"

Realizing the King's thoughts were elsewhere, Boromir bowed and backed out of the room. As he did, he took note that the sun was setting and could not suppress a chill at the idea of darkness falling across the valley.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

He returned to the armory in time to see Aragon donning a chain mail shirt and attaching a long belt to himself. Boromir raised an eyebrow as he came down the stairs. "It would appear you've found some new confidence," he dryly said.

"Let us say," Aragon replied. "I found a reason to fight on." He reached for his sword only to find it offered to him. Looking up, he saw Legolas holding the blade, a contrite look on his face. "You have trusted you this far. You have not led us astray." He moved the sword further out. "Forgive me. I was wrong to despair."

Aragon took the sword and then clapped a hand on Legolas' shoulder. "There is nothing to forgive, my friend."

Boromir smiled as well and bowed his head. "We stand with you, no matter what horde comes."

A grunt got their attention and the trio turned to see Gimli shuffle from a side room. He was holding a chain mail shirt before him that was easily three times his size. He let it drop, the chain covering his feet. Hearing their chuckles, Gimli glared up at them. "It's a little tight around the chest," he bit out.

The sound of a horn echoed through the Deep. All four men were instantly alert, hands on weapons. "They're here," Boromir said, tension gripping his heart.

"No," Legolas stated, his eyes narrowing as his ears perked up. "That is no orc horn." He raced up the stairs, Boromir and Aragon behind him. Gimli paused long enough to peel the chain mail off him before following.

The four came to the stairs to see an amazing sight: A full force of Elven warriors, cloaks over their armor, were marching into the center of the fortress. They were in perfect file, all holding bows and swords, some holding up banners with a familiar insignia on them. Théoden, a look of amazement on his face, stood before the leader who they recognized as Haldir, the Elven captain from Lothlorien.

"I bring word from Elrond of Rivendell," Haldir was telling the King. "Long ago, an alliance existed between men and elves." He gave the Fellowship a nice smile. "We come to honor that allegiance."

Aragon bounded down the stairs and embraced Haldir. Gimli and Boromir couldn't help but smile at the look of surprise on the elf's face. Breaking the embrace, Aragon moved back and heartedly said, "You are most welcome!"

Haldir bowed as behind him, the elves moved in perfect formation to face the surprised troops. Haldir's eyes fixed upon Aragon. "Now…if I may inquire as to the whereabouts of Lady Arwen?"

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The arrival of the Elven soldiers not only bolstered the force of the Deep but also the morale of those defending it. It was helped by Theoden's proclamation that the younger boys could be kept in the caves with the rest.

Arwen was overseeing the move of the refugees deep inside along with the preparations to seal the tunnels when she saw a familiar face. She stiffened a bit as she saw Haldir come toward her. "My lady," he said, bowing his head. "Your father has been most concerned about you."

"I would imagine," Arwen said, trying to keep her voice steady. "Have you been sent to bring me back?"

Haldir shook his head. "No. No, we are here to help with the upcoming battle. However, I do have a message from your father."

Arwen took a deep breath. "And that is?"

Haldir's eyes fixed on her own and when he spoke, Arwen could hear her father's voice. "I want to keep you safe. I have always wanted to spare you the pain this love could bring. But I realize I could not. I realize love can have pain but also joy. Most of all, I have realized that making you lose that which would make you most happy…is a greater crime than any mortal man can do. You have my love. You have my blessing and I hope you shall have my strength. You shall ever be in my heart, you shall be my daughter and never doubt that."

Tears rolled down Arwen's cheeks as Haldir finished. "Thank you," she whispered, bowing her head.

Haldir leaned forward and patted her shoulder. "Be strong, my Lady. We shall prevail." He bowed again before leaving. Arwen wiped at her eyes before she headed back into the caves.

Eowyn was there, seeing to some of the elderly. She saw Arwen's face and frowned. "Are you all right?"

Arwen nodded. "Yes. I…merely had a message from my father."

Eowyn didn't know how to reply to that but was cut off when the doors leading to the caves were shut. She heard the noise as the men on the other side barricaded the door as well as they could. She sighed deeply. "All we can do now is hope."

"That is often the best method," Arwen said. She paused and looked around, frowning. "Where is Morwen?"

Eowyn's brow furrowed as she looked about as well. "I thought I saw her earlier…" She stopped and she and Arwen exchanged a horrified look. "You do not think…"

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Boromir walked along the courtyard, checking on the soldiers there. The majority of the elves were on the battlements although some were in the courtyard as well. Théoden stood on a platform so he could look out at the field and gauge the coming battle. Boromir shuffled the cloak over his battle armor as a pack of soldiers marched by him. He stood to the side as they did and he almost missed it. However, when one soldier suddenly turned his head away, Boromir's attention was grabbed. One look at the way the armor moved on the body and his face turned into a deep scowl.

Marching forward, he reached and yanked the helmet off the soldier's head. A pair of long red braids fell forward as Morwen froze in place, discovered. "What are you doing here!" Boromir yelled.

Morwen whirled, her face tight. "I am fighting for my king and my people!" she yelled back. "I have risked my life already and it is my choice to do so again!"

"You should be below."

"You cannot order me! You are not my King!"

"No," a deep voice came from behind her. "But I am." Morwen's face paled as she slowly turned to see an angry Théoden standing before her. She licked her lips. "My Lord…"

"My orders were clear," the King stated. "All the women are to be kept safe."

"Many of those women would rather fight with their husbands and families," Morwen said, trying to keep her anger in check. "Why can they not have that opportunity?"

"This is not a time to argue the merits of women!" Théoden broke in. "You are to go below at once!"

"My Lord," Boromir said, not wanting to have to point this out. "We cannot. The entranceway to the cavern is sealed. We cannot have it opened to let one more enter."

Theoden's jaw set as he looked to the defiant Morwen. "You will stay by me then," he said. "And that is a command from your King. Disobey and I will treat you like a man who would show insubordination, is that clear?"

Morwen opened her mouth but then, to Boromir's relief, closed it and bowed her head. Boromir was shaking his head when a loud blast of a horn came over the valley. Everyone turned to gaze outward, knowing this was no elf horn.

"They are here."


	9. Battle of Helm's Deep

Reforging the Fellowship

By Michael Weyer

**The Battle of Helm's Deep**

**Yeah, I know it's been a while since the last update so thought I'd get back to this a bit. All comments are welcomed.**

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Boromir had been in battles before. He'd faced the hordes of Mordor at the gates of his city and in the field. But he could not suppress a shudder of shock and fear as he stepped to the front of the battlements and saw the forces arrayed against them.

The line of orcs seemed to go back as far as the eye could see, a massive black wave of pure evil. They were armed with shields, broad-edged blades and spears nearly twenty feet long. He also saw many carrying ladders and was sure they were pulling catapults behind them. He couldn't make out faces but he did know that they were eager for blood.

He tried to stay calm as he paced up to where Aragon stood. The Ranger stared out with an expressionless gaze at the forces before them. Boromir gazed at the lines of elves who stood on the battlements. As one, they pulled out their bows and readied arrows.

Aragon glanced to the other man and returned his gaze to the army before them as he spoke. "Get to the main tower and aid their defenses there."

Boromir frowned. "I'd rather stay here."

"They'll need some guidance," Aragon pointed out. "They are not as experienced as the elves."

Boromir nodded as he gazed at the orc army. "This will be no easy victory."

"No, it will not."

"Well, laddie," Gimli grumbled. "Whatever luck you live by, I hope it lasts the night."

"Do not worry, Aragon," Legolas stated. "Your friends are with you."

Gimli grunted. "Let's hope we last the night."

Boromir clasped the dwarf's shoulder briefly before heading to the main tower.

At the center of the main courtyard, Morwen stood by Theoden. The king's expression was calm and defiant as he gazed out at the army massing outside the gates. If he showed fear, he did well to hide it. In that, he was doing far better than Morwen. She felt a chill as the orcs stopped in place and then started to slam their spears into the ground, pound fists onto shields and chests and began a loud thumping that echoed throughout the valley.

Everyone who had a bow nocked an arrow and aimed it down but held their fire. She could hear Aragon yelling out in Elvish. At that moment, a loud clap of thunder rang out and suddenly rain began to pour down, soaking everyone within moments.

The orcs seemed energized by the rain, pounding harder and faster. At the tower above, Boromir was looking over the shoulders of the civilians there. One elderly man was aiming his arrow at the front of the line, his arms shaking. Boromir was about to go over to steady him when something happened. Whether it was nerves or the rain or the tension, the man's fingers slipped and the arrow sailed out.

Boromir had to admire the fact that the man's aim was amazing. The arrow hit an orc right in the throat. The creature stiffened, seeming more surprised than in pain. The pounding and thumping stopped as everyone on both sides stared at the stricken orc. With a loud moan, it fell face first into the wet ground.

A new sound arose, a harsh snarling as the orcs reacted to its death. It struck Boromir that it was less concern over a comrade and more anger that the men of Rhoan had drawn first blood. They let out a long howl and then began to charge forward.

"So it begins," Theoden gravely intoned.

Aragon yelled out a command and the elves began to unload a volley of arrows. Boromir yelled at his own troops to follow suit and the rain was matched by a shower of arrows. Slews of orcs went down but it was like crushing one or two ants when a million were charging in. The forces made their way to the walls, some firing arrows of their own to strike at the elves above.

Boromir saw the orcs setting up ladders, pushing them to the wall. Some already had large berserker Uruks on them, ready to attack. "Fire!" he yelled but he could see the archers on the tower weren't as well-aimed as the elves. He could make out various hand to hand battles on the stone archways as the elves and the orcs began to fight it out. He knew Aragon, Legolas and Gimli were in the thick of it and part of him ached to be there as well.

He became aware of a pack of orcs making their way up the causeway. Once again, the Uruks were showing they had more cunning and strategy than the average orc. They were packed tightly together, moving slowly but holding shields before and above them. They were thus protected from the hail of arrows and rocks the men above were sending at them.

Boromir turned toward the battlements and cried out. "Aragon!"

The Ranger heard him, turning and seeing the problem. He quickly shouted to the elves around him who unleashed a volley of arrows onto the causeway, sending hordes of orcs down. However, the line kept right on coming.

At the Hornburg, Thoeden looked out and sniffed, a smug smile on his face. "Is this it?" he called out. "Is this all you can conjure up, Saruman?"

Morwen gave him a quick look but kept her tongue. She knew it was still early in the battle and the hordes of orcs still outnumbered them. As much as she trusted and admired her king, she could not shake the feeling that something was coming that could destroy that confidence he had.

Boromir was feeling a bit better about their chances as he watched the battle go on. The elves were taking casualties but they holding the orc hordes back. All they had to do was keep the volley of arrows and they may be able to turn the tide.

He saw Aragon yelling something out to Legolas and leaned forward. He saw a long Uruk running through a path the other orcs created for him, carrying a large burning torch. Legolas fired an arrow into its shoulder but the Uruk kept coming. Another arrow struck at its neck but it kept on, finally leaping ahead to a point in the battlements…

And the world seemed to explode.

The shockwave sent Boromir falling back, along with most of the soldiers on the tower. Morwen let out a cry and instinctively fell back, covering her head as debris showered throughout the courtyard. The men around her witnessed an entire section of the wall blasted to pieces, sending rocks and bodies flying in all directions. Several large stones crushed some of the orc forces but the damage was greater for the men and elves blown away by the detonation.

Morwen felt something strike her shoulder and looked over to see it was a hand. She pushed the grisly artifact aside as Theoden stared in shock at the place where the Deeping Wall had been. Never had a force even managed to successfully overrun it. Now, for the first time in memory, a hostile force had managed to breach Helm's Deep.

Boromir scrambled to his feet and stared down. His eyes and mouth were open at the sight of the giant hole in the wall that orcs were already starting to stream through. He could see Aragon on the ground, trying to get a rally of elves against them. His attention was drawn down to the causeway as he saw the shields seeming to ripple, several orcs pushed right off the path and to the pit below. He saw the reason as a battering ram was brought up and smashed into the thick gate.

He turned and began to race down to the doorway, yelling out as he did. "Brace the gate! Brace it!"

"Brace the gate!" Theoden called out as he looked to Gamling. "Gamling, send more men to hold…" He paused and looked about. "Where is Morwen?"

Gamling started as he realized in the confusion of the new attack, the woman had vanished. Theoden cursed but realized they had more pressing matters at hand.

Morwen realized this was probably not the best of ideas but didn't care. She charged in, her dual axes already swinging. She saw Aragon leading a charge of elves at the orcs, many pierced on spears and others firing arrows. She saw Gimli smashing an axe into one and then the amazing sight of Legolas standing on a shield to race down a flight of stairs, firing arrows as he went.

An Uruk turned toward her and she blocked his first attempt to strike with one axe and sliced his throat with the other. She kicked another one down and slammed her axe into his chest to kill him. She plowed on as the Uruks continued to rush in.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

The caverns had shaken along with everything else when the explosion had gone off, the women and children there whimpering. Eowyn gave what comfort she could as Arwen stood before the gates, her sword out and her gaze hard. Seeing her, Eowyn rose to move to her.

"They are not through yet," she softly said.

"I will be ready if they come," the elf said, her gaze still on the door.

Eowyn looked to the refugees and then leaned in to whisper. "Their fathers and husbands and sons are dying above. They need to be comforted or else their fear will overwhelm them. Seeing an elf standing ready to fight is not at all comforting."

"This is not a time for comfort," Arwen coolly replied. "They must be ready to move if things go badly."

Eowyn shook her head. "You cannot understand. You are not human."

Arwen was quiet before turning toward her and Eowyn was struck by the emotion in her eyes, if not her face. "My own kin are dying out there as well," she softly said. "Do not tell me I do not sympathize. I must be ready should things go badly." She arched one eyebrow. "If you had the spirit of a warrior as you claim, you would understand."

Eowyn was thrown by her words. Bowing her head, she turned and walked back as Arwen kept up her vigil.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Morwen had fought her way up to the battlements and had lost count of how many orcs she had killed. Many seemed to charge at her, thinking she'd be an easy kill. She had quickly shown them how incorrect they were. She was wincing from a cut on her shoulder, her features marked with mud and sweat as she continued up the stairs.

Down below, Aragon was still fighting when Théoden's voice yelled down. "Aragon! Get your men out of there! Fall back to the Keep!"

The man nodded and yelled to the elves around him to fall back. Morwen heard him yell and turned toward him. She saw Haldir cutting an orc down, hearing Aragon and nodding. The elf cried out as an Uruk managed to stab him at the mid-section. He cut it down and stared in disbelief at the blood on his hand. The Elven captain was unaware of the Uruk racing toward him from behind, its large blade held over its head and ready to cut him down.

There was a whistling and the Uruk grunted, freezing in place. It looked down at the axe buried in its chest. Haldir whirled and sliced out, his blade cutting the Uruk down. He nodded and smiled at the young woman prying her axe out of the orc's body. "My thanks, my Lady," he rasped.

"As I keep telling people," Morwen said as she took his arm and helped him down the stairs. "I am no lady."

Haldir smiled at her. "I would argue that point."

They reached the stairs leading up toward the Keep where the battering ram was beginning to wear down the door. Boromir was racing down the stairs toward the gate, meeting Theoden and Gamling on the way. As they reached the area, they saw the ram smash through the gate, several orcs firing arrows at the defenders. A half dozen men went down immediately before some archers fired back.

Theoden battled to the front of the defenders and joined in the fighting. Swords and spears flashed around as they tried to drive the orcs back. Theoden hissed in pain as a spear was thrust into his shoulder. Ignoring the pain, he took up a spear of his own and shoved it into his assailant's throat. Boromir pulled Theoden away and against a wall, the king holding his shoulder. Gamling moved in and hissed. "We cannot hold them much longer!"

Theoden saw Aragon and Gimli coming up. "Hold them!" he cried out.

"How long do you need?" Aragon asked.

"As long as you can give me!" Theoden replied as he picked up his sword.

Nodding, Aragon grabbed Gimli and rushed to a side door. Seeing them, Morwen immediately followed. Boromir was too busy fighting to notice her.

The trio moved around the edge and peered to see the horde of orcs trying to batter down the gate. "Come on, we can take them!" Gimli eagerly hissed.

Aragon studied him. "It's a long way."

The dwarf thought about, looked down and then muttered something under his breath.

"What?" Aragon asked.

"I cannot jump the distance, you'll have to toss me!" Gimli hissed.

Aragon nodded and reached to him but Gimli held up a hand. "Don't tell the elf," he pleaded.

"Not a word," Aragon promised. He then hefted Gimli over and sent him flying to the causeway. He knocked several orcs off the bridge as he started to fight. Aragon turned to Morwen and offered a hand. She took it and let him give her a push to leap to the bridge. A moment later, he was joining them and the trio were cutting down orcs, sending many falling off the causeway.

Seeing them, Theoden yelled out. "Brace the gate!" Men were bringing up wooden planks and rafters to press onto the gate and nail it shut.

Above, Haldir was trying to bandage his wound when a loud whistling sound came through the air. A huge hook attacked itself to the castle wall. Another one attached itself and a huge ladder, almost a hundred feet high, began to rise up, filled with Uruk-Hai. Legolas saw it coming and pulled out his bow to fire a pair of arrows. Each one cut through one of the support ropes and the ladder fell back, crushing several orcs on the ground along with those on the ladder.

Legolas had no time to celebrate as another huge ladder landed at the wall to dislodge Uruks. At the gate, Theoden yelled out. "Aragon! Gimli, Morwen! Get out of there!" He nailed a last piece of wood shut to seal the gate.

The trio were battling a pair of large orcs trying to grab at them. Above, Legolas hurled a rope down to them. Knocking the orcs aside, Aragon grabbed it with one hand and Gimli with the other. Morwen joined them as they kicked off the causeway. Above, Legolas, Boromir and a few others helped pull them up to the top of the tower.

Theoden saw that the gate was being smashed in and knew their time was short. "Fall back," he told Gamling. Seeing the surprised look on the man's face, he repeated the command. "Fall back to the Keep!"

"Fall back!" Gamling yelled out. "Retreat! Back to the Keep!"

There was a rush as the surviving men and elves rushed to the main throne room of the Keep. They were only steps ahead of the rush of orcs as the gate finally came down. Legolas was still firing arrows as the surviving forces made their way into the throne room and did their best to lock the door against the horde awaiting outside.

The men quickly pushed whatever furniture there was against the door to brace it. Theoden was on the other side, his face ragged and defeated. "It is over," he muttered. "The fortress is taken."

Morwen glared at him. "You have always said that Helm's Deep would never fall while men defend it! They still defend it. They have died defending it!"

There was a banging as the orcs brought a ram against the doorway. Boromir shook his head as he turned to Aragon. "We can only hope Arwen gets the women and children away before they reach the caves."

Theoden shook his head, still overwhelmed by what was happening. All his life, he'd done his best to defend his people. Now, all he'd worked for was about to come crashing down, due partly to his own actions. "So much death…" He looked up. "What can men do against such unrelenting hate?"

"They can fight," Haldir said. He was holding his wound but still stayed strong. "As my people have done. We too have died protecting this fortress. As long as one man or elf fights…they will not have won."

Theoden sighed. "But against such forces…"

"Ride out with me."

Everyone turned to see Aragon staring forward, an odd look on his face. He turned to face Theoden. "Ride out and meet them."

The king forced a wry smile. "For death and glory?"

"For Rhoan," Boromir said, coming up to him. "For your people."

"The sun is rising," Gimli noted.

Aragon stared at the window as if remembering something. Seeing his look, Theoden nodded. "Yes," he said softly. "Yes." He marched away and when he spoke, it was once more the strong voice of the King of Rhoan. "The Horn of Helm Hammerhand shall sound in the Deep…" He turned to face them all. "One last time!"

"YES!" Gimli cried out and raced out a nearby door leading to some stairs.

"Gamling!" Theoden called out. "Get the horses!"

His second nodded and raced to the stables conviently kept near the main Hall. Theoden marched to Aragon and put a hand on his shoulder. "Man of the Dueandain." He put another on Boromir's shoulder. "Man of Gondor." He smiled. "Let this be the hour we draw swords together."

Gamling came back with a pack of horses that were swiftly mounted. Boromir helped Morwen onto his. The young woman's face was tight but ready, her axes gripped in her hands. Theoden stared at the gate as it began to give way.

"Fell deeds await," he intoned. "Now for wrath…"

Aragon drew his sword.

"Now for ruin…"

Boromir and Morwen hefted their blades.

"And the red dawn!" The king pulled his helmet over his head as the door smashed inward. The orcs plowed in but stopped short at the sight of the mounted men before them. At that moment, Gimli blew the horn above which caused the larger horns at the side of the fortress to erupt in a loud howl.

"FORTH EORLINGAS!" Theoden cried out and the horsemen charged forward. They knocked the orcs aside as they made their way out of the Keep and down the stairs. Orcs were knocked back and trampled under powerful hooves, others cut down by the swinging swords of the riders. The few men and elves left on the walls cheered and fell behind the horsemen as they rode onto the causeway and headed to the thousands of orcs still on the ground.

Aragon was cutting down another when he heard a loud whinny and looked up. On a far hill, framed by the rising sun was a figure in white astride a magnificent horse.

"Gandalf," Aragon whispered.

The orcs sensed something and turned to see the White Rider as another horsemen in fine Gondor army came up to him. He drew a sword and called out. "Rohirrim!" There was a rush of hoof beats as a line of horsemen appeared behind him.

Theoden grinned as he realized who it was. "Eomer!"

"TO THE KING!" Eomer shouted, his cry taken up by his men as they charged forward. The horde came rushing down the long hill toward the orc forces. The Uruks immediately moved into defensive positions, a wave of long spears aimed at the rushing riders. They howled in defiance, ready to fight back these new attackers.

The last of the thousands of Rhoan troops rode over the ridge just as the sun came over the horizon. The entire valley was illuminated, the sunlight going right in the eyes of the orcs. They howled, throwing up their hands to block out the light and with them the spears.

The cavalry charged into the horde of orcs, knocking them aside and cutting them down with strong strokes. Revitalized, the defenders went on the attack and the orcs found themselves surrounded. Scores of them fell on all sides until the collective nerve broke and the few thousand survivors decided to turn tail and run.

The black wave of orcs rushed out of the valley and headed to the nearest shelter, which was a forest nearby. "Let them go!" Gandalf cried out. "Let them go!"

Boromir frowned as he watched the Uruk rush into the trees. "They will find shelter too soon in that forest."

Morwen frowned. "Wait…" she said. "There is no forest near Helm's Deep."

With a start, Boromir realized she was right. Indeed, the hundreds of trees had not been there the night before. There was a sudden roar and they saw the trees moving and shaking and the air was filled with the screams of orcs.

"The Ents," Aragon stated.

Gandalf nodded. "Saruman slaughtered many of them in razing Isengard. They are taking their revenge."

Theoden nodded and threw up his arms. "Victory! VICTORY!"

A cheer went up through the defenders but it was not shared by Gandalf. His face was sober as he gazed across the battlefield. He knew the truth. This was only one battle. The true war was yet to begin.

**Well, hopefully not as long until the next update. All comments are welcomed, good or bad so feel free to review!**


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